Is She a Lot Like Me?
by Lady Saphine
Summary: Femmeslash, CathSara, SaraSofia ... Catherine Willows has a lot of unanswered questions...


Title: Is She a Lot Like Me?

Author: Jocelyn Brant

Email: Catherine/Sara, Sara/Sofia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Do not own any of the characters, the situations are generally mine, but perhaps based upon an earlier premise. All lyrics are property of Luba, and are from the song "Is She a Lot Like Me?". Word to 80s musicians before their time.

Wonder's a natural thing,

It makes me question and it makes me think

Is she a lot like me?

Forgive my insecurity,

My morbid curiosity,

Is she a lot like me?

"I'll have to verify that with Wendy, but I think we can safely assume that Mr. Antedory, was, once upon a time, Ms. Antedory," Sara gives me a pursed smile, and I return it with a slightly raised eyebrow. We're suspended in that moment, our mutual accomplishment the foundation for this comfortable silence upon us. Silent, that is, until the tell-tale "click-click" of heels against tiles marching down the corridor filters in.

Sara turns her head first, and I follow her sight line, barely catching the soft smile now on her face in place of the satisfied smirk of earlier. There was a time when that muted smile was reserved for me, an indication of our discreet and private intimacy. Now it's given to another, and perhaps it's better suited for her. Perhaps Sofia earned it more than I did.

For a long while, I watched the interplay between the two, as Sofia explains to both of us (though her eyes rarely strayed from Sara's) that Anthony Antedory was going to be joining us in interrogation room C, later that afternoon. I see the subtle gestures, the slight shifting of weight towards one another, the glassy eyes of adoration, the slightly heated air around them, and I'm transported to a time, not too long ago in history though eons before in memory, where Sara and I were the centre of the universe. At least to one another.

The gentle squeeze of my bicep shakes me from my reverie, and I'm snapped instantly to the present once again. "I'll catch up with you later, Cath."

She's gone before I even have an opportunity to nod my head, and I watch as she walks down the rest of the hallway, her arm casually brushing against Sofia's; their shared space professional, but no less painful to my twisting heart.

There's always something about this situation I'm never quite prepared for.

Is she stunning, is she strong?

Is she brilliant, is she young?

Is she a lot like me?

Is she giving, is she neat?

Is she psychic, is she sweet?

Is she a lot like me?

"_I never thought we'd be here," she breathes, her head slumping forward, giving the majority of her weight onto the elbows atop her thighs, and her hands dangling at the wrists in defeat. I sit in a modified replica of her position, staring from my seat beside her on the couch. "Really. I never anticipated this."_

"_Who really goes into a relationship thinking, 'wow, I wonder how this is going to end,'?" She chuckles sadly at my attempt at humor, and I can't help my self when I reach over and clasp one of her hands loosely in my own. She doesn't resist, but doesn't return the act.  
_

_We're silent, both of us holding our breaths for a second on the inhalation, and releasing it slowly, so as not to disturb the silence with something so terrible as breathing. A standstill, I think is what they call this. A moment preserved in time, but will one day be forgotten. I don't look forward to that time, even though this is painful to endure; I want to live with this memory, let it mold me. Everyone needs a source of inspiration, and all that._

"_I did, truthfully," she murmurs, perhaps to herself in rhetoric, but she looks at me for understanding._

"_What's that?"_

"_I actually went into relationships wondering how it would end." I don't know what to say to that, and my nod is as dumb a response as I feel. She accepts it though, without any elucidation. "But… there was something about this that didn't warrant that kind of analysis. This was the real thing."_

"_Yeah, it was." And it's true. It is what it is. The "real thing", true love, is no less true even if it ends. We loved each other, we do love each other, but there's more to it than that; something more necessary for it all to mesh well. I won't lie and say that I'm not angry at what our love has become, but I don't doubt that it needed to end. It wasn't going in the direction I wanted, and it was bypassing all the pit-stops she needed._

_Another person can make those stops where I couldn't, and I can't be selfish and keep her from that. I just wish she hadn't found it, before she knew what to do about us. Undue pain, and me without a properly supplied first-aid kit._

Really didn't want this to be

An inquisition, or the third degree;

Is she a lot like me?

Maybe I'm digging to deep,

Obsession is a relative thing;

Is she a lot like me?

I didn't want to know what went on behind closed doors; I just wanted to know what it was that worked for her. It wasn't about using the information to get her back; I don't think our patterns have changed so drastically that it would make that much difference, at least not in our situation.

I guess I'm just curious. What about Sofia Curtis spoke to Sara Sidle? What about her desires, goals, dreams, pursuits, demons, nightmares, anguish reached out and found companionship in Sara's? With us it was all about whose needs were more important, who gave the most without getting anything in return, who tried the hardest to win. I think with them it would be who took care of whom more, who anchored who the greatest, and who challenged who the best.

Did Sofia like watching cartoons? For that matter, did Sara like cartoons, or did she just make such an effort because she wanted to reach Lindsay? I think perhaps it was like that in the beginning, but I swear I caught Sara sometimes more engrossed in the animated adventures than Lindsay was.

Did Sofia know how to cook? Sara was an adequate cook, but she wasn't really versed in an assortment of dishes, just the five or so vegetarian ones she cooked on a regular basis because they were her favorite. I'd learned to make a mean vegetarian lasagna, and even now I still make it once or twice a month for Linds and me.

Was Sofia a skilled lover? I have to admit that when I first set eyes on Sofia, back during her day-shift stint, she had certainly carried herself with an air of sophisticated sexuality that even I envied. She didn't need to flaunt her sexuality; she lived and breathed it naturally. Sara became a very talented lover, and perhaps it wasn't only because of me. I'd like to think, though, that I taught her some of the finer points. She was always a fantastic student of the school of emulation, often surpassing the teacher, to my ecstatic surprise.

Would Sofia become the confidante Sara so needed, but didn't know how to cultivate? I tried, on far too many occasions to count, to be the one Sara could talk to about her past. I wanted to feel needed, to be able to offer up support and advice, and be the foundation for a happier, well-adjusted Sara. Even after seven years, she's still not in the "well" stage of adjustment. But Sara has a resilience to her that is both admirable and irritable, and not always suitable.

I find them in the staff room, talking easily, sharing a grin and a sandwich. Sofia doesn't seem to remember that her particular department of law enforcement is elsewhere, but I guess whatever time they can afford one another is valuable.

I don't walk in, even though I'm really looking forward to that diet Pepsi at the back of the staff fridge. No one's claimed it in like a week, and as long as it's still unopened, it's still fair game. But an interloper I am not, or at least I try not to be. Not anymore. So I keep moving past the staff lounge, and onto my office, and they keep laughing and chewing in tandem, and the air seems heavier, and I don't know why that is.

So don't get me wrong,

This thing called love

Between the two of us  
Is long gone,

And it's just some strange

Phenomenon and on it goes

Wonder's a natural thing,

It makes me question and it makes me think,

Is she a lot like me?


End file.
